More Than Meets the Eye
by lindor010308
Summary: what happens when someone arrives at Hogwarts in their 4th year and unravels the inner colours of our favourite characters? We explore the missing moments and speculate how certain people came to be who they are now & investigate those we never knew... CC
1. One Should Always Carry a Bottle Around

I always wondered what happened to the others in those missing moments, when everything was focused on Harry. Focuses on the trio, with new characters to keep things interesting. Very canon compliant and (hopefully) well written. Starts in their **fourth year** (Triwizard Tournament was so exciting, thought it the best place to start! Also, lots of missing moments for Ron and Hermione). Enjoy!

Disclaimer: The world of Harry Potter belongs to JK Rowling anything within canon of the series belongs to her.

_A/N: Hi guys, first time writing, so after reading a lot of FF over the years I decided to have a go at it! I think it's because I've been re-reading a lot of my HP books lately, and I've always wondered what happened in those missing moments, between Ron and Hermione and other minor characters. I know I've mentioned this starts in the fourth year, but I just finished rereading HP7 and I'd love to get so far as the seventh year and explore what happened at Hogwarts whilst the trio were hunting horcruxes! Anyway, small steps shall we? Currently rereading the fourth book and I'm picking out certain places where it would seem interesting to insert something new. Each chapter focusing on different characters but it will be very clear what happened and who they are (canon compliant). Read, review and enjoy! _

_Much love, Lindor010308 xxx_

**Chapter 1: ONE SHOULD ALWAYS CARRY A BOTTLE AROUND.**

Although his legs were carrying him through the dense floor of the woods, absentmindedly following the others, Harry's mind buzzed with anxiety over the events of the last hour. He had just lost his wand, only to be found by a mere house-elf, and the Dark Mark that had appeared high above them was conjured from _his _wand. Not only that, he had woken up from a dream with his scar burning only a few days ago. Was it all coincidence, or were the turn of events somehow connected, begging him to decipher its meaning before someone he knew was truly harmed? This train of thought eventually led to him becoming even more restless, as he realized that he did not know for sure whether Ginny, Fred and George were safe.

Picking up his pace, he felt the crunch of leaves beneath his feet, feeling a strange chill creep down his spine as a cold breeze ruffled his already untidy hair. As they approached the edge of the forest, worried whispers of witches and wizards grew louder, and Harry gripped his wand tighter as they swarmed around Mr. Weasley begging for information. He was thankful when Mr. Weasley excused them though, saying that they were keen for sleep, and they all continued their journey back to the camp site.

All was quiet and still and the stench of smoke and burning canvas reached their nostrils as they evaluated their ruined surroundings. Charlie had poked his head out of their tent, reporting that they were all safe, and with a sigh of relief heard from Hermione, they entered the tent. However, they were not alone.

Bill's arm, which was bleeding profusely, was being tended to by a plump wizard, whose face was only a few inches away from Bill's wound as he dabbed a cotton swap at it that was drenched in some sort of brown liquid. His well-kept brown hair was beginning to grey and he had a look of severe concentration upon his face, his eyebrows furrowed, appearing to not have noticed the new entrants. He wore glasses, but unlike those Harry had ever seen before. They were rose-tinted and magnified his eyes to a great extent. Not only that, every few seconds another slightly smaller lens would appear in front of it, still attached to the first ones by wire, and after a few seconds it would make a ticking noise and would retract itself, and somehow magically disappear into the first ones. The wizard looked rather strange wearing these magical glasses and lime green robes, which Harry suspected must be because of his support for Ireland.

Mesmerized with what these glasses were doing every few seconds, Harry was surprised when the wizard finally spoke.

"Hold that wand a little closer, will you Lucy dear?" came his voice with what appeared to be a slightly foreign accent. It was only then did Harry notice a tall and slender girl standing next to the wizard, holding a wand alight as she drew it nearer to Bill's wound. Like the wizard, which Harry suspected to be her father, she had a look of attentiveness drawn upon her chiseled features, her long dark hair cascading over her shoulder and a streak of dirt was evident upon one of her high cheekbones. Neither appeared to have noticed the party enter the tent, although Bill had, wincing as the wizard continued dabbing at his wound.

Upon seeing Bill, Mr. Weasley exclaimed, "Ah Laurence! Thank goodness you're alright! How's Bill looking?"

"He'll be fine Arthur, this wound is really deep though, but it should heal in the next few hours. I've cleaned it and now I'm applying Dittany - like I've said, one should always carry a bottle around! I've gotten word that someone's conjured the Dark Mark – is that true? Do you know who did it?" came Laurence's reply, as he placed the cotton swab down, took off his glasses and approached Mr. Weasley, shaking his hand in a friendly manner.

"No, we haven't caught the person unfortunately, they disapparated before we could do anything."

"Ah, bad luck. This will really cause a frenzy at the ministry," said Laurence, his eyes sweeping over Harry, Hermione and Ron. "I'm hoping not many got seriously injured in the mad rush to get out of the camp site. And who are these young fellows you've got here?"

"Oh everyone, this is Healer Westwood, from Australia. He's just transferred to St. Mungo's as Head Healer of the Serious Magical Injuries Unit," came Percy's pompous voice, as he rushed to stand next them, his nose still broken. Although Harry had never heard of St. Mungo's before, or what exactly a healer was, he guessed it must be equivalent to a magical hospital filled with magical doctors known as healers. "And behind him is his daughter Lucinda who will soon be joining you this year at Hogwarts in your year," Percy added pointedly to Harry, Ron and Hermione. Still standing next to Bill, she waved a quiet hello, her eyes twinkling from the light of her wand as she gave them a small smile. Hermione could not help but notice the dazed smile that appeared across Ron's face as he noticed her.

"Laurence, this is my boy Ron here, and his friends Harry Potter and Hermione Granger" said Mr. Weasley, giving them a slight push forward as they each in turn shook the Healer's hand.

"Harry Potter?" asked the Healer inquisitively as his blue eyes shot up to Harry's forehead. "It's a pleasure to meet you." Although he should be used to it by now, Harry was getting slightly uncomfortable with the Healer inspecting his scar. The Healer seemed to have picked this up as well, and soon changed the topic. "I noticed that all three of you were eyeing the medispecs," he said fondly, "do you know what they do?"

At this point, Hermione answered rather excitedly, "They magnify what you're looking at to varying degrees, which is controlled by the wearers mind, with extremely high levels of clarity and definition. Every few seconds a second pair of lenses does the job of double checking that human flesh is actually reacting to ointment when being applied."

"Yes, yes you're quite right," said the Healer, clearly impressed by the young girl's knowledge of magical medical instruments, "fascinating invention."

"Are you looking forward to attending Hogwarts, Lucy? I'm sure the Weasleys, Harry and Hermione will look out for you while you get introduced to everything" said Mr. Weasley rather kindly, turning his attention towards the girl.

Before she could reply however, her father interjected, "Yes, Lucy's quite looking forward to Hogwarts indeed. Can you believe it? Generations of magical blood in our family and not one of them has attended what is apparently the finest school of witchcraft and wizardry in the world!" chuckled the Healer, "Enid, my wife, went to the Salem Witches' Institute over in America, but Lucy's been schooling in Australia. She's quite apprehensive about boarding school though! Oh and not looking forward to all the rain that Britain is used to! But I'm sure she'll adjust finely and I trust her in Dumbledore's hands. Not having been to Hogwarts hasn't impeded on her magical abilities though! Lucy, why don't you finish up here?" turning to his daughter and giving her a wink.

Lucy cleared her throat, muttered, "_wrap sursum_!" and suddenly bandages shot out of her wand, and wrapped themselves securely and neatly around Bill's arm.

"Taught her everything I know! Nicely done," said Healer Westwood approvingly, as he noticed Hermione and Ron in awe. "Perhaps one day you'll be able to go into the Healing profession, Miss. Granger, and magically wrapping up wounds will become second nature to you. In the meantime, always carry around Essence of Dittany," and with that he took out a small bottle from the pockets of his robes and handed it to her, "just in case.

"We best be on our way Arthur, this is most certainly not a civil hour and I expect Molly will be wanting you to get back home as soon as you can in the morning!" he said, beckoning towards Lucy. He quickly pointed his wand at Percy, square in the face, and suddenly Percy's nose was no longer broken when the word, "_Episkey_," had left the Healer's lips.

With a smile and a wave, they exited the tent, calling out "be sure to take care of yourselves!"

_A/N: So that's chapter 1! I hope you liked it so far. It will get better, please trust in that! Lucy is a key character in the development of the other main characters, especially in Hermione and Draco. Healer Westwood is introduced here because the info he provided is important to the story line. Almost finished chapter 2. Please review! _


	2. One Should Not Base Decisions

Chapter 2: ONE SHOULD NOT BASE DECISIONS ON THEIR APPETITE

The pounding rain made his glasses fog up as Harry rushed to get undercover, dragging his trunk and owl cage along into the station. Turning around, he saw Ron with his soaked hair plastered against his forehead and Hermione struggling with Crookshanks as the cat started to shriek and move around wildly in its carrier, clearly upset from the wet weather.

Harry, Hermione and the Weasleys kids were being ushered along to walk faster by Mrs. Weasley, who was fretting that they might miss the Hogwarts Express which was waiting for them on Platform Nine and Three-Quarters, on the other side of the barrier. It was then that Ron whispered to Harry, "We wouldn't be running behind if those Muggle taxi drivers were a little more competent and the weather wasn't so bad. Mate, I've got no idea how Muggles stand wasting time sitting in traffic all day, how does anything get done?"

Harry grinned and shrugged his shoulders, already keen to escape the Muggle world and enter one where he could use his wand freely and ride his broom to his heart's content.

Casually pushing their trolleys against the barrier so as to not attract any Muggle attention, Harry, Ron and Hermione found themselves building with excitement as they saw the scarlet train, white clouds of steam issuing from its engine as Hogwarts students and their parents along the platform bade farewell to each other, with parents promising letters and care packages in exchange for good behaviour. Ron smirked as he saw a few overly emotional mothers sharing tearful goodbyes with those who were clearly first year students.

As they climbed onto the train to find seats and stow away their luggage, Ron trying to calm Pigwidgeon down as the little owl fluttered excitedly in its cage, Hermione nudged Harry and pointedly looked in the direction of a compartment to their left.

There sat fellow fourth year classmates, Ernie Macmillan, Hannah Abbott and Susan Bones, listening to a familiar young girl talking animatedly, her wide brown eyes filled with delight and eagerness. Whatever she appeared to be saying was obviously funny, as the three Hufflepuff students roared with laughter whenever she paused from speaking.

"Isn't that Lucy? That Healer's daughter?" asked Ron timidly, not sure of what they were meant to do.

"Lucinda Westwood," responded Hermione matter-of-factly, "her father is a published potioneer – he's developed a few successful remedies for scars and powerful sleeping draughts that allow the body to heal quicker, I read it in _Potions and the Surprises they Provide_… can you imagine how much you'd learn if your father was a Chief Healer? He's very highly valued in the wizarding community."

"And I bet you'd just love to pick her brain, wouldn't you" said Ron in a pained voice, clearly not wanting to listen to a conversation about the properties of healing plants. Harry however, instantly thought of Sirius at the mention of the word 'scars,' and the notion that a whole week had gone by without any response worried him slightly. We wanted advice about what his burning scar had meant, and thought he could definitely count on his Godfather to reply to his letter with the urgency he felt the situation demanded.

"Let's come back after we've put our stuff away and said goodbye to Mrs. Weasley," said Harry hurriedly, looking for an excuse to distract him from his train of thought. With this, they moved on until they found a suitable compartment, squeezing past students who were searching for friends and looking to put their possessions safely away.

After saying goodbye to Mrs. Weasley, the three friends decided to head back to their compartment, eager to discuss what Bill and Charlie were hinting at before the train had begun its journey.

"Clearly something exciting is happening at Hogwarts this year," said Ron, biting into his Cauldron Cake, and looking expectantly at Seamus, Dean and Neville who had eventually joined them as the afternoon had progressed. After deciding that they would rather just wait until Dumbledore told them instead of guessing aimlessly, the conversation had turned to Quidditch, and Hermione hid behind her book, clearly not interested in recounting the events of the World Cup for the umpteenth time.

The light outside grew darker and darker as the rain grew heavier still. The gloomy weather seemed to be a warning of dampened spirits as an unexpected visitor showed up at their compartment door, sneering at those who sat within. The encounter with Draco Malfoy and his unnecessary speech about how his father was so well-connected whilst managing to insult the Weasley family, which in turn greatly angered Ron, left Hermione feeling relieved when the Hogwarts Express began to slow down and draw to a final stop at Hogsmeade Station.

Upon greeting Hagrid, Harry and his fellow Gryffindors hurriedly made their way to the horseless carriages, taking great care not to slip as they fought against the downpour that was sending ice-cold water down their backs and drenching their schools robes. As each of them began to climb into an empty carriage, something amusing caught Harry's eye.

Only a short distance away was Lucy Westwood, yelling over the pounding noise of the rain in an effort to be heard by Ernie, whose head was poking out of the carriage pleading with her. Her robes were saturated with water, her shoulders shivering in the icy temperature, but she did not appear to care.

"Are you s_ure _I'm supposed to get into the carriages with you Ernie? That really big guy back at the station said that first years should follow him," she cried in despair, obviously conflicted as to what she was supposed to be doing.

"I'm sure it's fine! Do you really want to be crossing the Black Lake in this weather?" responded Ernie impatiently, holding out his hand for her to take so she could climb in. "You could fall in! There are _Merpeople _and a _Giant Squid_!"

Yet she did not take his outstretched hand, but continued to stand in the rain.

"Alright fine, I'll take you to see Professor McGonagall as soon as we get there!" pleaded Ernie once more, and with great reluctance, Lucy took his hand and climbed into the carriage, shutting the door behind her.

"Oh I wonder what House the Sorting Hat will put her in," muttered Hermione curiously as the carriage started its journey towards Hogwarts Castle.

"Dad mentioned to me we should 'make a serious effort to be friends with her,'" stated Ron, as though he had not really considered this, "otherwise he'll be 'seriously disappointed that I didn't show Weasley hospitality'" he finished, rolling his eyes.

"Lucy Westwood?" asked Neville, "my Gran's had her over for tea a few times when they've visited England before she moved here permanently. She comes from a long line of Healers. Gran says she's quite lovely though. Her great-great grandmother was a Veela… no wonder she's quite pretty."

Neville's ears began to redden with humiliation and his face flushed before he added, "Gran even tried to set us up on a date to have tea right before school began, but I think I blew it when I accidentally knocked her tea cup onto her lap."

Ron stifled a laugh at Neville's deep embarrassment and Harry smirked at the idea of an elderly woman trying to arrange romantic endeavors, but quickly forced his facial features back to normal at Hermione's glare, as she patted Neville's shoulder sympathetically.

"Perhaps better luck next time?" laughed Ron as they began to climb down from the carriage when it drew to a halt before the great oak front doors.

Once they had settled in the Great Hall, Harry heard Ron's stomach rumble in hunger, and was not surprised when Ron claimed he could eat a Hippogriff. It was at this moment that the doors opened and in walker Professor McGonagall with a long line of scared looking first years, who had looked like they had been completely inundated with water from the Black Lake. Ending this line was Lucy, who was surprisingly completely dry – she had obviously performed a spell that made her so, and was being eyed enviously by the other eleven year olds surrounding her, as they shivered and awaited their fate that the Sorting Hat was about to present to them.

Harry noticed that the students at the tables were no longer looking at the puny first years, but his fellow male classmates were eyeing Lucy curiously, who stuck out of the group rather obviously due to her height. Seamus and Dean were now suddenly paying attention as they waited for the Sorting to begin, and a few tables away Harry noticed Draco Malfoy whispering fervently to Crabbe, staring at Lucy whilst doing so.

As the number of first year student dwindled down, the time finally came when Professor McGonagall called out, "students, there is a new fourth-year student this year. I hope you make her feel welcomed. Westwood, Lucinda!" and with that, Lucy hesitantly approached the old three-legged stool and Professor McGonagall placed the Sorting Hat gingerly on top of her head.

Usually the Sorting Hat is decisive and quick when making judging a student, however, the student body noticed that the hat sat on top of Lucy's head for almost a minute, which to Lucy, felt like a lifetime.

"Ah ha! What do we have here?" came the small voice in her ear, "Hmm… where shall I put you? Challenging. Very challenging."

Staring out into the vast sea of faces that were now all paying attention, Lucy suddenly felt very self-conscious. She was searching for one face in particular, but could not find it, so instead turned her attention to the Sorting Hat.

"Umm… why am I so challenging?" she thought inquiringly, surprised that the Hat responded instantly. It was like a hushed whisper in her ear, telling her all the things about herself, as if it knew her better than she did. Lucy felt her hands become sweaty as her nerves kicked in and tried to block out the hundreds of pairs of eyes eagerly waiting what the Hat would announce.

"What a quick witted girl you are, and resourceful, yes, I definitely see ambition too. And what's that I see? You value fair play and loyalty. My girl, you're incredibly stubborn too. Hmm… where to put you…" murmured the Hat thoughtfully.

"My friend Ernie is in Hufflepuff, why don't you just put me in there?" thought Lucy earnestly, "he was telling me about the house system on the train. Apparently the Hufflepuff dormitories are near the _kitchens_. Forget about Gryffindor Tower, or the cold dungeons of Slytherin! You could potentially _sneak out _to the _kitchens!_"

At this reasoning, the Sorting hat chuckled and responded with, "My dear, one should not base decisions on their appetite! Give me a moment to think about this…"

As the students continued to wait for the Hat's decision, Hermione heard the excited whispers of Lavender Brown and Parvati Patil.

"_Westwood?_ As in, _Enid _Westwood?" Lavender asked, her eyes lighting up with interest as she asked Parvati.

"It _must _be! Oh my goodness I can't believe she's the daughter of the famous robes designer!" cried Parvati.

"The what?" asked Hermione, leaning over so as not to be heard.

"You know, the famous robes designer! Enid Westwood designs marvelous robes for famous witches, like for special events, weddings… ooh do you think we could get Lucy to ask her mother to design us dress robes? Our school list said we needed them this year!" squealed Lavender with delight. It was at this point the Sorting Hat finally made a decision as it yelled out,

"… GRYFFINDOR!"

Out of the corner of Harry's eye, he noticed a deep frown spread across Draco Malfoy's face, his cold gray eyes piercing Lucy, staring at her in animosity, and his lips formed a sneer as the Sorting Hat was taken off her head. Wondering why Malfoy cared so much about what House a new transfer student would be placed into, Harry turned his attention back to the newest member of his House who was approaching them.

Lucy scanned the long table quickly as Gryffindors applauded, not wanting to sit with the other first years, and recognized Hermione. With a friendly wave and a smile, Lucy sat down next to her, Lavender and Parvati let out small squeals, which remained unnoticed by her, as they turned away and whispered excitedly to each other. She turned around to the Hufflepuff table, spotted Ernie, and gave an apologetic shrug, as if saying sorry for not being placed in Hufflepuff. Ernie, Hannah and Susan smiled in response and mouthed the words, 'it's okay.'

As the Sorting finished and Professor Dumbledore began his to speak, Lucy sat there marveling at the vastness of the Great Hall. Its enchanted ceiling occasionally flashed with lightning and swirled with dark clouds, and she appeared to be enthralled as she inspected the hundreds of floating candles, causing the marble floor to gleam. Her attention was captivated when food suddenly materialized in front of them at the words of, "tuck in," by Dumbledore.

Loading up their plates, Harry and Hermione attempted to make light conversation with Lucy, whilst she could not help but stare at Ron amusedly as he began to hurriedly stuff his mouth full. As the meal progressed, Lucy found out the mistreatment of house-elves would not be tolerated by Hermione and with Hermione's refusal take another bite, they instead struck up a conversation about Aconite and its various properties.

"Umm… is the weather always like this?" asked Lucy nervously as the wind began to howl and beat against the Hall's window panes.

"You should wait until it starts to snow, bet that'll need some getting used to," smirked Neville, piping up as he reached over for some treacle tart, "Gran says she'd love for you to come over for tea again soon by the way, wait 'til I tell her you're in Gryffindor!"

Once their food had disappeared and all the students (except for Hermione) were bursting from being so well-fed, Dumbledore began to make his welcoming speech. Halfway through however, the large front doors clanged opened and in walked a deeply scarred man with grizzled hair, limping as he began to make his way towards the other professors, all eyes staring at him.

"May I introduce our new Defense Against the Dark Arts teacher? Professor Moody!" announced Dumbledore brightly into the silence. Mad-Eye took a seat, and stared out into the sea of faces that were all curiously looking at his eye that was swiveling around madly in its socket.

Dumbledore continued his speech, and with the announcement of the Triwizard Tournament, Lucy muttered under her breath to no one in particular, "Is everything around here always so dramatic?" Harry chuckled quietly in response. If she only knew the amount of danger that had happened to him over the years, she would not think that a Tournament would constitute for drama. Excited murmurs were now evident as the students began to talk excitedly about the prospect of international students staying at Hogwarts.

As they exited the Great Hall, following Fred and George, they listened to the Weasley twin's plans of overcoming the age restriction of entering the Tournament with a few simple drops of aging potion.

"The boys and girls dormitories are separated, with each year level given their own room to share," Ron heard Hermione tell Lucy as they approached the staircase, "Gryffindor tower is guarded by a portrait of the Fat Lady, who will ask for a password. Remember not to forget the password, which changes when the prefects see fit, otherwise you won't be allowed entry. Oh and be careful of the stairs, they like to change, and some steps like to play tricks on you, so be careful to – "

"oops!" cried out Neville as his foot sunk into a step, clearly forgetting to avoid it.

" – not step on the ones that do," finished Hermione as she watched Harry and Ron pull him out, Lucy wide-eyed at what had just happened.

"Yeah, and try and avoid Peeves as much as you can, he can be a bit of a nutter," added Ron knowingly.

"Peeves? Wasn't he the ghost that Nearly Headless Nick was telling us about at dinner? The one wreaking havoc in the kitchens?" asked Lucy in a puzzled voice.

"Yeah that's him, he likes to wreak havoc on students too if you get my drift," piped up Fred, "but if you stick with us, we'll be sure he won't cause too much trouble for you," he finished, winking at her.

"Oh please," muttered Ron, rolling his eyes at Fred's sore attempt at chivalry, "we all know the Bloody Baron's the only one who can control him."

"You really ought to read _Hogwarts, A History_," said Hermione, "I'll lend you my copy." It was at this point they crossed the seventh floor and reached the portrait of the Fat Lady, which granted entry when George announced the correct password.

"Don't worry; she's always trying to get us to read that," whispered Ron to Lucy, "pretty sure she's remembered all the lines by now anyway."

As they bade goodnight to the boys, Hermione and Lucy began to climb the stairs towards their dormitory, Lucy looking fondly around the common room as the fire crackled merrily in its crate and the squishy armchairs certainly looked inviting.

Upon entering their own dormitory, Lucy was suddenly bombarded with questions from Lavender and Parvati, who were already lying in their four-poster beds, crimson hangings stood against the walls and Lucy spotted her own trunk at the foot of a bed. She made her way towards it, opened it and sat down on the floor, evaluating her surroundings, not being phased in the slightest by their questions of her mother and the latest trends in robe-wear.

"I hope you don't mind me saying this," interrupted Lucy as she turned her attention towards the two frivolous girls, "but I'm extremely tired and I'd rather just go to bed." She noticed the crestfallen faces of Lavender and Parvati, and reluctantly added, "but here, you can have this though," pulling out a magazine from her trunk and handing it to them.

Hermione, who had now changed into her pajamas and was about to wish them all goodnight, stopped upon seeing the contents of Lucy's trunk. To her delight, she noticed the trunk was brimming with books, and not just the books required on their booklist. As she read titles of _Charming Your Way Through Life_ and _Transfiguration: An Advanced Guide to Changing Form_, Lucy could not help but notice Hermione.

"Here," said Lucy kindly as she handed both books to Hermione, "perhaps a bit of light reading? You can return them to me when you're done." And with that, Lucy changed, climbed into her warm bed, thankful that the eventful day was over. Her thoughts swam with anticipation for her first day at Hogwarts, but before her mind would finally fall asleep, the vision of a young boy formed within her head, his pointed chin and blond hair prominent in her dreams.


	3. Only While We're at Hogwarts

_A/N: Okay so in the last chapter I established the contrast between Neville and Ron. Neville embarrasses himself while having tea with Lucy, and Ron finds this amusing. Yet we all know the tables are turned when Neville has a date for the Yule Ball and Ron can't seem to find one at all later in the fourth book. Also, I like the linkage between Lucy from Australia and how her father gave Hermione Essence of Dittany. It's almost like Hermione got the idea to send her parents to Australia in the seventh book from Lucy's situation, and heeded the advice of Healer Westwood by carrying a bottle of Dittany while they were looking for horcruxes – which most definitely came in useful. _

_Also, I like the idea that Hermione finally has someone to talk to about things that matter to her. I always thought she must've been a tad lonely without anyone to share her passion for learning, and this is where Lucy befriends her. It must be annoying having to share a dormitory with air-heads like Lavender and Parvati who are always gossiping and clinging onto every word Professor Trelawney says, which Hermione highly resents. _

_Lastly, we all know that Draco has a soft spot. Whilst arrogant and crude, he loves his family dearly and can't walk the walk after talking the talk, evident when he couldn't kill Dumbledore in Half-Blood Prince. So the unexplained link between Draco and Lucy is explored further and we see more character development from him. Please review – any constructive critique is most welcome. I hope you enjoy this next chapter. _

_Love Lindor010308 xxx_

**Chapter 3: ONLY WHILE WE'RE AT HOGWARTS**

"Draco? Draco I know you can _hear_ me, so I don't understand why you're ignoring me!" came Lucy's hushed but angry whisper. She sat down irritably next to Draco Malfoy, opening her Herbology book, almost tearing one of the pages in her ill-tempered state.

Taking a deep breath to calm down, the smell of old books filled her nostrils as she turned her head to observe her surroundings. Very few fourth years were in the library this early into the new term, but stressed older students were already ardently flicking through mass volumes of books, eyes perusing the yellowing pages, the scratch of their quills could be heard every few moments as they took down relevant notes. Lucy then spotted the uptight and strict Madam Pince a distance away, who was scrutinizing the students, paying close attention to anyone who may be causing damage to her precious books. She was overseeing the proper placement of those texts that had been returned, as heavy books were floating in the air in one corner of the ancient library, magically placing themselves in the appropriate section that they belonged to. Greatly impressed by the sheer size of the library and the knowledge it offered through its tens of thousands of books, Lucy turned her attention back to an issue that was currently more pressing to her.

She eyed the young teenager beside her, his pointed chin slightly quivering as he felt her gaze scan his pale complexion. Running a hand through his silver-blond hair, he sighed deeply, knowing that he was fighting a losing battle by trying to ignore her and finally tore his eyes away from the edition of the _Daily Prophet_ he was reading. He looked into her brown eyes, which bore imploringly into his own.

"So," she began, "where are your cronies? Aren't they usually inseparable from you? Or is it the mere fact that you're currently surrounded by information that's scared them off?"

"Lucinda, what do you want?" asked Draco quietly, not wanting to get into an argument, bitterness evident in his voice.

Taken aback by his tone and unwelcoming response, Lucy replied rather coolly, "Don't look now, but Mad-Eye Moody is behind you." This made Draco jump in his seat with trepidation as he whipped around, pulling his wand out of his robes, fear now evident in his eyes.

"That's-not-funny," he stated angrily through gritted teeth, heat rising in his neck, causing his cheeks to flush pink as he stowed his wand away, for he realized that there was no one in this part of the library except for the pair.

"Alright, alright," chuckled Lucy softly, "I probably shouldn't have done that. And it was very unprofessional of Professor Moody to turn you into a ferret, even if many thought you deserved it for insulting Ronald Weasley, luckily Professor McGonagall –"

"– Yes and you wait until my father hears about this. He insulted my mother Lucinda! Anyway, what's your point? Why are you here?" interrupted Draco indignantly, evidently still annoyed and humiliated at what Moody had done.

He was now looking at her, his grey eyes dancing across her face, examining what he saw. Her hair was pulled back high, and her olive skin gleamed from the rays of light that shone through the nearby window. One perfect eyebrow was slightly raised, and her lips formed a grim line.

"I'm here because I want to know why every time I call out your name in the hall way, you pick up your pace and ignore me, when you clearly know that I'm trying to catch up with you. Or why is it that whenever I wave at you, you look away even though I _know_ you saw me" she replied crossly. Draco could not be sure, but he suspected a tone of hurt in her voice. Looking into her eyes confirmed this notion though, and strangely, he felt a pang of guilt. "I thought we were friends…" she finished quietly.

"Listen Lucy… It's hard to explain…" came Draco's strained response. He did not want to have this confrontation now, but he doubted there was any way of escaping her grasp. His eyes flickered back to her face, and a look of despair was now fixed across her features.

"Well then, please humor me and at least _try_," she answered reproachfully. He cringed slightly at the nature of her tone, but decided that there was no other way than to explain to this newcomer the dynamics of the school.

"You're a _Gryffindor_," he said expectantly, as if the mere word explained his decision to disregard their friendship.

"So? What does _that_ have anything to do with it?" she exclaimed shrilly, clearly exasperated by his lack of reasoning.

Bang!

To their left, a first year had just tripped and dropped a handful of hefty texts, and now was being subjected to Madam Pince's judgmental glare. After a momentary pause, Draco turned his attention to the matter at hand and stated matter-of-factly,

"I'm really sorry Lucy, but we can't be friends, at least, not at Hogwarts. It's simply a matter of principle," pausing to see if she understood yet. Noticing her nostrils flare in annoyance reminded him of Professor McGonagall in a bad mood though, and he decided that it was best to continue. "Being placed in a certain house defines who you grow to be. The Hat evaluates your most prominent qualities, and we all know Slytherins pride themselves in regards to blood-purity. Frankly, I don't understand why you're in Gryffindor when you're a pure-blood yourself, and I don't understand to an even great extent why you hang out with riff-raffs like the Weasleys, or pathetic Neville Longbottom, or even that mud-blood Granger." Before she could protest however, Draco Malfoy continued his passionate explanation on the importance of principle,

"You once told me yourself – Muggles aren't like us, and neither are Muggle-borns. They just haven't been brought up knowing _our_ ways. Then there are those, like Weasley, who go befriending Muggle-borns, or even _marrying_ Muggles, diluting magical blood even further. Filthy blood-traitors," he finished with disgust.

"So now you're going to completely disregard years of friendship because I now associate with people with varying degrees of _magical blood_?" said Lucy, clearly outraged. "You _know_ that's not how my family works. My father's a _Healer_ – he can't simply discriminate against witches or wizards depending if they're Muggle-born or not, and that's how I was raised too! Your principle has no logical rationality Draco, we can't be friends because I'm in Gryffindor? It's not my fault the Sorting Hat thought I was loyal and brave! Furthermore, not everyone in Slytherin is a pure-blood, what do you say that that?" she argued, now fuming with rage. And yet, Draco notice a hint of pleading in her voice, as if trying to convince him that she was the same girl he had met and befriended years ago.

Draco gave another deep sigh. It was obvious that there was no use arguing with this stubborn girl. Their mothers were best friends, and if word got back to Narcissa Malfoy that he was being rude to her best friend's daughter, he would never hear the end of it. Part of being a member of The Most Noble and Ancient House of Black was that cordial behaviour and respect was required, especially to those of prominent pure-blood heritage like Lucinda, regardless to those she decided to associate herself with.

Usually this would not be the case, and he felt that if his mother knew that Lucy was placed in Gryffindor and shared a dormitory with a mud-blood, Narcissa would have sided with his son's ideology. However, in this circumstance, he felt sure that his mother would simply say that Lucinda was an exception, for she had never had a family member attend Hogwarts and did not know the significance of House rivalry. Also, Narcissa would not want to upset her very best friend, Enid, with the news that her own son was being uncouth. However, what would his fellow Slytherin's think if they openly knew about his friendship with a Gryffindor?

After a long moment of silence, both seemed to be lost in thought, neither knowing what to do or say next. Lucy noticed that in his train of thought, Draco's eyes had softened as they looked into hers. She then placed her hand over his, which was lying on the table, and squeezed it, mumbling almost inaudibly, "I just don't want to lose my friend."

Draco was at lost for words, reluctant to say anything that would be detrimental to his reputation. He was clearly torn between what he wanted and what he thought was his duty to his House, and to his ancestors who had upheld this belief at Hogwarts generations before him.

"I'm really sorry Lucy… I just don't think we can be friends so openly. You don't understand how serious this House rivalry is. We can't all of a sudden become chummy and sit with each other in class. But… we can write to each other? Yes, I think that's a better idea, we'll send letters to each other," said Draco, now tearing his gaze away from Lucy's, for he did not want to witness any hurt he may have caused with this suggestion.

"_Write? _You want to _write_ to me?" she said heatedly, her voice rising with each word.

"Only while we're at Hogwarts! If we see each other out of school, we can talk as much as we want!"

Her eyes now pierced his own, glowering with deep resentment. "Fine" she whispered, her voice shrill. Draco felt her fingernails dig menacingly into his hand before she let go, leaving small marks on his pale skin. She grabbed her bag, chucking her Herbology book inside, and without further ado, she got up and turned her back on Draco. With her sharp nose stuck in the air, her chin held high, she left him staring at her rigid posture, and exited the library without bothering to look back. Her long, purposeful strides carried her until she was out of his sight.

By now it was already late afternoon, judging from the setting sun and the dimming light outside. Lucy could hear each step echo off the hallowed halls as she made her way towards the Gryffindor common room, her eyes beginning to brim with tears at what had just happened between herself and Draco. In all the time she had known him (which was to say, a many years) she did not ever think he was capable of such cruel behaviour or absurd ideas. A few minutes passed, and she did not come across anyone else, although a few moving portraits made the effort to greet her as she walked past.

It was not until she rounded a corner did she see a hunched figure leaning against a pillar, evidently lost in thought. As she drew nearer, she instantly recognized the round face of Neville Longbottom, and wondered why he was sitting there alone.

"Neville?" she asked gently, sitting next to him and leaning against the pillar herself. There the duo sat, clearly troubled by their own thoughts, and they continued to sit there in comfortable silence.

"Listen Neville… if you're upset about Moody's lesson today, I would completely understand," she said softly, eventually breaking the silence. "Performing the Cruciatus Curse on the spider was awful, and it must have reminded you of…" she stopped abruptly, not wanting to go further, unsure of whether it was her place to start talking about his parents.

There was a pause, and Neville's hoarse voice finally spoke, "I just miss them, you know? Sometimes… sometimes I feel like Harry."

"Like Harry?" Lucy asked, puzzled.

"Yeah, like Harry… not having parents. I mean, they're there but they're not really _there_," he finished sadly. She nodded solemnly. "But I suppose if that's the way it's got to go, I'm better off with Gran than living with Muggles who hate me."

"That's true," murmured Lucy. "Dad wrote to me last week. He sends his regards and wanted me to tell you that your parents are warming up to him at work." She gave a small smile to Neville, and put her arm around his shoulders in comfort, truly feeling sorry for the fate that life had granted him. As she sat there in the quiet afternoon, her problems with Draco suddenly seemed minute and irrelevant, and her face started to flush slightly as she thought of how concerned she was over her foolish problems.

Over the summer break, Lucy was hired to do some clerical work at St. Mungo's while her father settled in and adjusted to his new work environment. In the afternoons, Lucy would go visit patients and read or chat to them, and two of these patients happened to be Neville's parents, although she did not know it at the time. She had known Neville's grandmother for a few years though, for she was a pure-blood and her father knew her through family ties whenever they visited England.

It was only on one windy afternoon did she run into Neville, who she had only briefly met a few times, visiting his parents. Though she noticed he was forgetful and clumsy (managing to knock over a jug of water sitting on Frank Longbottom's bedside table), she also observed his gentle manner in which he spoke to them. She admired how his conduct was always caring, and although his mother had not always made sense while they were having conversations, he was continuously patient and attentive.

"Tell you dad I said thanks," he said quietly, interrupting her train of thought.

"You know Neville, your parents would be so proud of you. I've seen the way you are with them… not everyone would act with such patience and dignity."

"Thanks Lucy," he smiled as he said this, and though it was only small, Lucy knew it was genuine. "Professor Moody lent me a book," he added as he pulled out _Magical Water Plants of the Mediterranean_ from his bag.

So there they sat for the rest of the afternoon, looking through the new Herbology book with mounting interest, until they were interrupted by Neville's growling stomach, at which point, they both knew it was time for dinner.


	4. A Sprout of Guilt

**Chapter 4: A SPROUT OF GUILT**

"_And I'll sit in wonder of every love that could've been. If I'd only thought of something charming to say" – Death Cab for Cutie_

"Ron! Ron, wait!" cried Hermione, slightly out of breathe as she tried to catch up, her shoulder aching under her bag of heavy books. Ron swiftly glanced back, saw who it was and came to a halt. His expression though, told her that he'd rather not want to discuss whatever she wanted to say.

The air was clean and crisp, and a gentle wind ruffled his red hair as he waited for her. But before she could even begin to talk, he was determined to have his say first.

"Hermione, I don't want to hear it."

"But –"

"If Harry was stupid enough to put his name into that cup thinking it would get him more attention, it certainly worked," replied Ron gruffly as he spotted a group of Slthyerins walk past, bearing _Potter Stinks_ badges on their chests.

"Ron," interjected Hermione exasperatedly, "you can't honestly think he put his name into that cup… and you know he didn't say all those things in that stupid interview with Rita Skeeter."

Ron simply took a deep breath of annoyance. "I'm glad Madam Pomfrey managed to undo that nasty spell Crabbe set on you… here let me give you a hand," he said as he took Hermione's bag, which she was very grateful for.

As they began to stroll through the expansive grounds, noticing the cold air as winter approached, a comfortable silence fell between them. It was a beautiful Saturday morning, the sky was clear and neither of them wanted to start the inevitable topic on Hermione's mind. Finally, Hermione began to speak in an irritated voice,

"I thought… I thought you two would make up by now, after having detention with Snape together the other night."

"Fat chance," muttered Ron. They were now walking downhill towards the Black Lake, where they spotted the Giant Squid gliding lazily past the Durmstrang ship.

"Oh if only both of you would get over yourselves, everything would go back to normal!" said Hermione. He noticed that her eyes held a hint of desperation behind them. "Half the school think he's an attention-seeking lunatic, waiting for the chance to get killed, and we're _supposed _to be his best friends, Ron! If we don't believe him, who will?" but before he could reply, she continued hurriedly, "Think about it, he can't have put his name in that cup – we're only fourth years! I think someone else must have done it!"

They came to a halt underneath the beech tree.

"Yes, yes we know," said Ron, rolling his eyes as they sat down in the tree's shade, "someone's always out to kill him. I s'pose we ought to be used to it by now."

"That's not funny," said Hermione quietly, avoiding his gaze as she studied the Durmstrang ship. "He could die Ron, people die in tournaments like these. We don't even know what's coming up in the first task and I don't think he's prepared very much at all... we should be helping him. Can't you just… just make up with him?" she asked, with a tone of urgency in her voice.

Ron looked away, feeling a sprout of guilt building up inside him. He knew Hermione was right, deep down. He had spent evening after evening alone in the common room, trying to concentrate on his homework, although his mind kept returning to the things he had done and said to his best friend. He had spent days listening to the rumors circulating the corridors between classes, and every time someone had said something rather snide about Harry, he had to fight the urge to tell them off. Ron knew deep down that Harry probably didn't put his name in that cup, but he still couldn't figure out what stopped him from ending this fight. Wanting to change the topic, he turned to the girl sitting next to him, who was waiting timidly for a response.

"… There are supervisors on standby Hermione, don't worry so much. Besides, what could lowly Ron Weasley do for the great Harry Potter anyway? You know that no one cares what I have to say Hermione. You've heard Malfoy say what everyone else is thinking at every chance he gets… I'm just Potter's poor sidekick –"

"No, no you're not," Hermione said suddenly, looking into his blue eyes as she grabbed his hand. She didn't let go. They stared into each other's eyes in silence, Ron surprised at Hermione's interruption, and Hermione was at lost for words, although her eyes told him there was much more she wanted to say.

She had never really suffered from this type of internal struggle before. She was always reliant on her logical thinking process, which always eventually told her what the right thing to do or say was. However, as she began to lose herself in those eyes, her mind was unexpectedly blank. She could feel her heart rapidly beating faster as she noticed the freckles on his nose, and was startled when she realized that she found the puzzled look on his face endearing.

"You're more than just a sidekick and you know it," she said fiercely, "you're funny and resourceful a-and brave, and I don't know what we'd do without you… what _I'd_ do without you."

She could feel the heat rise in her neck as she noticed his ears turn slightly pink. Yet, he still continued to stare at her in silence. Hermione noticed his palm getting sweaty as she continued to hold his hand. She took it as a good sign when he didn't move it away.

Instead, he was gripping her gently back, holding her hand too.

"Thanks, Hermione," he said, his voice hoarse. Clearing his throat, he leaned slightly forward, his face inching closer to hers with every passing second. She felt as if her heart had stopped working altogether, and holding her breath she could feel the nerves in her stomach rise.

'_This is it_' she thought, as she closed her eyes and waited.

However, instead of feeling his lips coming into contact with hers, she felt his thumb on her cheek. It lingered there for a few seconds, almost caressing her supple skin, before brushing something off.

"Just getting rid of an eyelash," he murmured as she opened her eyes in surprise. Quickly feeling embarrassed, she let go of his hand and brushed her cheek.

Before she could say anything however, a group of Durmstrang boys approached them, laughing and talking jovially, which distracted Ron instantly.

"God I hate them," he whispered darkly under his breath, not noticing her flushed cheeks. They were much taller than both Ron and Hermione, wearing their red capes which outlined their muscular frames.

"Just ignore them," replied Hermione.

As the boys got closer, much of their conversation could be overheard.

"Vot do you think this school is playing at? It's so pathetic they had to cheat and get two players just so that they had a chance of vinning!" exclaimed one of them, whilst the others chuckled in response.

"You should've heard Karkaroff! He vants to write to the committee and complain!" the others nodded in agreement, "but none of them are any match for our Krum! He'll thrash that Potter in the first task for sure. Ve should just finish him off ourselves you know, maybe jinx him ven he's got his back turned…"

Suddenly, Ron was on his feet. As he whipped out his wand and rounded on them, Hermione groaned to herself as she hurriedly joined Ron, preparing to stop him from doing anything rash. The boys that they were confronting were wearing stunned looks, but they swiftly took out their own wands from underneath their robes.

"Don't even think about it," said Ron through gritted teeth. His knuckles were turning white from gripping his wand so hard.

"Or vot?" said one of the boys, his thick eyebrow raised at Ron's challenging stance.

"No Ron, you mustn't!" cried Hermione, tugging at the sleeve of his robes, "they're not worth it!"

Ron didn't move.

"He didn't put his name in that cup. We don't play dirty here," said Ron frowning at them.

"It certainly doesn't look that vay," said one of the other boys.

"Yeah well, who cares what way it looks like? If I catch you even pointing you wand at Harry while his back's turned, it'll be the last thing you do!" said Ron angrily.

"Ron! Please… let's just go. I think they understand," whispered Hermione, now tugging at his arm. Reluctantly, Ron lowered his wand.

"Er – just… just go back to your ship," said Hermione, relief evident in her voice as she noticed the other boys also lowering their wands.

As Ron and Hermione turned away, one of the Durmstrang boys had raised his wand again.

"_Impedi_ –"

"_PROTEGO_!" yelled Hermione, turning around and brandishing her wand, her bushy hair whipped around her as she blocked the spell. "_Petrificus Totalus_!"

Ron swore very loudly as they watched all three boys suddenly turn solid and drop to the ground with gentle thuds. "Those sneaky little bastards! Right when we had turned our backs Hermione! You can't trust any of them!" he exclaimed with disgust.

"… What should we do with them?" asked Hermione, her eyes wide with shock at what she had just done.

"I say we just leave them here. Let someone else find them."

"Well… alright…" replied Hermione, although it was obvious she wasn't sure they were doing the right thing.

"C'mon," said Ron as he slipped an arm around her shoulders, picking up her bag and steering her in the direction towards the castle. They treaded carefully in silence, Ron's arm still around Hermione, with a look of deep concentration on his face.

"So you admit it," said Hermione in a soft voice, breaking the silence.

"Admit what?" "That Harry didn't put his name into that cup, and that deep down you care if he dies or not!" flustered Hermione.

"I suppose so… just… just give me time Hermione, I'll always have Harry's back but I'm not quite ready to talk to him yet."

Somewhat satisfied with the response, they continued up the grassy slopes towards the castle, Hermione silently wondering why a tiny part of her enjoyed having his body so close to hers.


	5. Magic Saved Me

**Chapter 5: MAGIC SAVED ME**

"_Something has changed within me. Something is not the same. I'm through with playing by the rules of someone else's game" – Defying Gravity_

Lucy sat there watching her write feverishly across the yellowing parchment; Hermione's bushy hair seemed to crackle with electricity at the enthusiasm of her own mind ticking overtime. The two girls had decided to tackle their Arithmancy assignment together, although it appeared that Hermione needed no help. Charts and text books surrounded them, covering an entire table. Lucy picked up a particularly difficult looking chart, frowning to decipher its meaning. After a while however, she threw down her eagle quill and looked around the warm common room, her eyes finally landing on the fire flicking merrily in its crate.

'_Investigate and explain the magical properties surrounding the importance of Brigit Wenlock's discovery in the 13__th__ Century,'_ thought Lucy as she stared absentmindedly. No matter how many times she repeated the topic that Professor Vector had given them, she could not bring herself to finish the essay. Not when she could hear a deck of cards exploding every few minutes in the far corner of the room from a game of Exploding Snap, or the surprised gasps of first years who had just mastered the levitating charm from the chocolate frog card they were practicing on.

After having done Snape's potions essay and finally having grasped the fundamental concepts of transfiguring objects into stone, completing Arithmancy was like running the last few miles of the race but never seeming able to cross the finish line. Lucy's eyes began to droop as she fought to keep them open. Finally surrendering, she closed her eyes; her hair streaming over her shoulder as her head lolled to one side.

She felt fur rub against her leg, and then a paw nudge her, which jerked her back awake. Blearily looking down, she saw her black cat's yellow eyes gaze up knowingly as it cocked its head to one side and meowed its disapproval.

"Oh Frieda, what have you been up to today? Hmm?" came Lucy's soothing voice as she picked up the cat and placed it gingerly on her lap, stroking her shiny coat. "Caught me when I shouldn't be dozing off, huh?"

The cat merely purred in response, arching its back then lying back down lazily on its owners lap.

With a deep sigh, Lucy turned back to the books and parchment in front of her. Rifling through, she found her last essay she had done for the subject. In red ink, Professor Vector had given her an eight out of ten. Hermione, pausing to look up from her work, commented with, "Oh, that was a really hard essay, so getting an eight out of ten was really good!"

"What did you get?" asked Lucy, raising a quizzical eyebrow.

"Er – full marks," mumbled Hermione inaudible. Although Lucy had not quite heard what she had said, she knew what Hermione's reply would be.

Lucy smirked in response. "Alright, what happened to you?"

"Excuse me?" asked Hermione, her features forming a puzzled expression on her face for the first time that night.

"I asked, what happened to you?" repeated Lucy, "something must have happened to you to make you addicted to learning. It's just… you're like one of those Muggle contraptions. What are they called? A machine. You're like a machine that never stops until it gets the best mark, or is never satisfied until every little detail is crammed into that head of yours."

"… I guess that's just the way I am?" replied Hermione, quite unsure of herself or what Lucy was trying to imply. "What makes you think that something had to happen to me?"

"Because," sighed Lucy, "no one is really born that way, are they? Something inside you must be pushing you... sometimes it comes down to brains, but the greater part is work ethic and that little voice inside you head that tells you to keep going."

Hermione merely shrugged, though Lucy noticed that she was avoiding her gaze. Shrugging it off, Lucy stifled a yawn and announced she was off to bed. Picking up her cat and placing it underneath her arm, she claimed that she would simply pack up all her stuff early the next morning – "I highly doubt anyone would really have a desire to steal _New Theory in Numerology_," she said with a grin as she bade goodnight to Hermione.

Hermione sat there pondering the last conversation. "I know exactly what's pushing me," she said under her breath as she dipped her quill into an ink bottle and began writing again.

An hour later, she skimmed the essay one last time before rolling up the piece of parchment and placing it carefully in her bag. It was now almost midnight and Hermione was the only one left in the deserted common room. Armchairs were left in disarray, candy wrappers were scattered on the floor, and she spotted a few broken quills only a few tables away. Sighing, she picked up a small scrap of parchment and scribbled a quick message:

_Dear House Elves,_

_Thank you for all the hard work you do. We all appreciate it very much even though we don't tell you._

_Sincerely,_

_Frustrated student working for your rights_

Rubbing her eyes, Hermione swung her bag over her back and slowly meandered up the stone stairs. Finally coming across the door she wanted, she gently pushed it open, only to find that the room inside was completely quiet. The soft snores of the other girls could be heard in the pitch black. Pulling out her wand, Hermione muttered, "_Lumos_," and was guided by the soft light emitting from the end of her wand as she made her way to her bed. As quietly as she could, she pulled out the things she needed from her trunk and crept back out.

Finally reaching the top of the staircase she opened the Gryffindor girls' bathroom doors. Floating candles near the ceiling immediately flickered to life, sending a bright glow throughout the room. Right in the middle were two rows of fifteen marble sinks, back to back, making a long line down the middle so that the ancient bathroom housed thirty sinks altogether, each with a mirror. The golden faucets glinted from the light of the candles. Lining each side of the rectangular room were showers, ten on each. As Hermione entered, the fading crimson floor tiles sent goosebumps up her legs as her bare feet made their way to a sink.

Hermione was thankful that she was alone. Inspecting the tired circles under her eyes, she pulled her bushy hair into a pony-tail, and began her nightly ritual. As she brushed her teeth, she continued to stare at herself in the mirror, cursing her unruly hair. Frowning at the stubborn strands, it suddenly reminded her of when she was seven years old.

_It was a cold and dreary day. She was sitting at a desk, gazing dreamily out the classroom window as fat rain drops spluttered against the glass of the window panes. She turned her slightly chubby face to the front of the class and began to copy down the mathematical equation her teacher had written on the board with her favorite pencil. Giving her booklet a triumphant look when she had finished, she grinned to herself. Hermione was missing a front tooth._

"_OW!" shrieked Hermione, turning around and holding the side of her head in pain. Everyone stopped writing and she could feel her cheeks flush as all eyes landed on her._"_What's all this noise for?" came her teacher's authoritative voice._

"_Sir, Nick Rutherford just pulled my hair!" cried Hermione in a small voice. Nick had spiky blonde hair, his fat fingers menacingly clutching the desk as he sat behind her. Hermione's mouth went dry as she caught the evil glint in his eye, her nerves gipped with fear._

"_Nick! How many times do I have to tell you to stop pulling Hermione's hair?" scolded the teacher, "if you don't stop I may have to give you another detention! Now finish copying down what's on the board.__"_

_As soon as the teacher had his back turned, Hermione could hear Nick's malicious whisper, "Hermione with her big fat hiney, watch out at lunch time triple B!"_

"Triple B," sighed Hermione, cringing at the thought. _Buck-toothed Bushy Beaver_. As she finished brushing her teeth she thought to herself, '_kids can be so cruel_.' She forced herself to push her past memories out of her mind.

Finally changed and ready for bed after having a refreshing shower, Hermione grabbed her wand and made it back down to her dormitory. Closing the hangings and climbing into her four poster bed, she sunk down into the soft and warm sheets, her eyes closing instantly as her head hit the pillow.

_Hermione's small hands held a book upright as she walked across the playground alone. Without noticing, she bumped into someone which caused her to drop her book._

"_Oh sorry," said Hermione distractedly as she bent down to pick the book up. However, before she reached it, the book was snatched away from her grasp. Looking up in puzzlement, her eyes widened in alarm as she realized whom exactly she had bumped into._

"_Well, well, well, look who it is everyone! It's Triple B!" smirked Nick, loud enough for other kids nearby to stop what they were doing and watch. Some of Nick's friends joined him, towering over Hermione intimidatingly with their arms crossed over their chests. "And what is Bushy Beaver reading? More paper for your appetite?" continued Nick, roughly flicking through the pages of 'Great Expectations' by Charles Dickens._

"_P-Please… may I please just have it back?" squeaked Hermione timidly. Her voice was cracking as she fought to keep her tears at bay. _

"_Hmm… You know what Granger? I don't think so," replied Nick, "perhaps I wanted to read it. I may just borrow this off you__"_

_With that he opened the book to a page somewhere near the middle and appeared to be studying it. Everything was quite still. Hermione anxiously held her breath as her classmates watched from afar. No one wanted to get involved with Nick when he was busy antagonizing his next victim._

_Suddenly, Hermione heard a prolonged rrrriiiiiiipppppppp. Nick had just ripped one of the pages of the book in half, holding it in the air dominantly, as though it were some prized medal he had just won. The grin on his face was one of great wickedness as he waited for Hermione's reaction, almost daring her to try something._

_Instead of sadness and hurt which is what she normally felt when getting picked on by Nick, Hermione's chest swelled with fury and rage. She clenched her fists, her eyes were piercing with hatred._

_Suddenly, the book snapped shut in Nick's hand, nabbing his fingers._

"_What?" yelped Nick in surprise. The book continued to open and close, like a mouth viciously biting Nick's hands and fingers. Hermione just stood there, focusing all her anger and hatred on Nick as her other classmates because to yell in shock and fear._

"_W-what are you doing?" yelled Nick, panic dripping in his voice as he dropped the book._

"_I'm not doing anything," said Hermione calmly through gritted teeth. Beads of sweat had formed on her forehead._

_The book fell to the ground, but abruptly glided through the air again, and started to bite Nick in any place it could grab. It then shut completely and started to hit the terrified boy, following him as he began to run away and scream in horror._

Hermione awoke with a jolt. The clock on her bedside table read that it was almost six in the morning. She had to remind herself that it had been a dream, and though it truly did happen when she was very young, she had to find her bearings and remember where she was.

Magic had saved her.

After that day, Nick did not harass her in any way, and neither did anyone else. Admittedly she led a lonely life up until she came to Hogwarts. All those who had witnessed what had happened treaded extremely carefully around the strange Hermione Granger. It was only when she turned eleven that it all made sense. From then on she vowed to know everything that this wonderful world had to offer. Her conscience constantly told her that she had only one chance to fit in, only one chance to contribute in some shape or form to the conversations occurring constantly in her world.

She had once felt left out, and she wasn't about to let that happen again.


	6. Draco's Past I

**Chapter 6: DRACO'S PAST, PART 1**

"_Tell me why everything turned around? Packing up, shacking up, is all you want to do. If I could baby I'd give you my world. Open up, everything's waiting for you. You can go your own way, go your own way" – Fleetwood Mac._

Harry crept quietly downstairs. It was late, and though he tried to settle his mind, he could not sleep. He could not stop thinking about all the possible things that could go wrong in the First Task, which he was yet to complete. Different scenarios of his inevitable death kept forcing their way into his mind. Perhaps he would die at the hands of a dragon's tail thrashing him to one side, or setting his body on fire? Cringing at the thought, he at least optimistically thought that he'd rather know what he was facing now than on the actual day. Making a mental note to enlist Hermione's help, he finally reached the bottom of the stone stairs and entered the warm common room.

Looking around, the circular room appeared to be deserted. Making his way to one of his favorite squishy arm chairs by the fading fire, Harry abruptly stopped dead in his tracks at the sight that reached his eyes. Sitting on the dark crimson rug, with her knees curled up to her chest, sat Lucy Westwood.

Harry cautiously approached, torn between making his presence known and returning to the safety of his bed. However, curiosity seemed to get the better of him as he surveyed the peculiar scene. Next to her was an old tin box, in which old photographs and yellowing letters seemed to overflow. Some were scattered around her, as though she had looked at them and carelessly tossed them to one side. Her black cat was playing with a small, golden locket and on the left of her stood a stone basin. It wasn't until the light of the fire hit her face, that Harry noticed her puffy red eyes and tear-stained face.

Wondering what could make a person so upset, Harry quietly wandered over to her and sat down. Turning her head in surprise, Lucy quickly wiped her cheeks with the sleeve of her pajamas and mumbled, "Oh I wasn't expecting you Harry, what are you doing up?"

"I could ask you the same thing. Er – are you alright?" asked Harry gently, his green eyes full of concern.

"What? Oh… yeah, yeah I am. Don't worry about me," she replied, forcing a small smile on her face. Understanding that she did not really want to discuss what was bothering her, Harry instead picked up a photograph that was lying next to him on the floor.

Turning her head to gaze back into the fire, Harry studied the moving picture in his hands. In the middle of the photo were two children, a boy and a girl, perhaps three or four years old. Both were smiling, and every few seconds they would shriek out in giggles, their eyes lighting up at something that they found highly amusing. All Harry could see was a vast expanse of grass, which they were standing on, with only a giant oak tree in the background. The girl wore robes of bright magenta; her short hair cut in a stylish bob as she kept waving a pudgy hand at the camera. Her other hand was holding the boy's standing next to her, and on his other side he was clutching onto a toy broomstick. His rosy cheeks would flush in delight against his otherwise pale skin whenever they would laugh, his blonde hair gleaming in the sunlight, his grey eyes full of joy…

Breaking the silence, Harry cleared his throat. "Uh… Lucy who's this?" he asked, hoping his suspicions were not about to be confirmed.

Looking down at the photo, Lucy's lips broke into a weak smile. "Oh, that's me," she said pointing to the little girl, "and that's Draco Malfoy. We're playing in his backyard."

"You know Draco Malfoy? You're _friends_ with him?" asked Harry with mild shock at how innocent the young Draco looked.

"Hmm… not so much anymore. It's all got something to do with house rivalry or some bullshit like that," muttered Lucy bitterly. "But up until I came to Hogwarts, we were best friends."

"_Best friends_?" asked Harry in utter disbelief. "How is that even possible?"

"Well, I think it happened by default to be honest. Our mothers have been best friends for almost twenty years so we kind of grew up together," she replied simply, "we used to do everything together. We were pretty much inseparable now that I think about. Here, look at these," and with that she picked up a small pile of old photos and handed them to Harry.

The next photo was clearly another picture taken on the same day as the first photo he saw, for the girl was still wearing magenta robes. However, instead of standing, they were both zooming around in and out of the photo on Draco's toy broomstick, her little arms gripped around his waist as they cried out in laughter. Another photo showed the pair a little older, perhaps around seven years old. They were sitting on a picnic blanket as she was feeding a Crup and Draco was fondly patting the dog-like creature, a majestic peacock kept pacing in and out of the frame. The photograph after that depicted two happy families sitting in front of a magnificent Christmas tree. Harry instantly recognized Mr. and Mrs. Malfoy, except this time the beautiful woman's expression was not marred by a look of disgust, as Harry last remembered. Instead, she was affectionately stroking Draco's back as she anticipated his glee at opening one of his many presents that were dispersed around them. Lucius Malfoy was holding a goblet, sipping every few seconds as he and Laurence Westwood stood next to the grand marble fireplace in the far corner partaking in cheerful conversation, and Lucy was playing with what appeared to be a new doll adorned with a witch's hat. Next to her stood a woman, whom Harry could only guess was her mother, a striking and slender lady with curly dark hair that perfectly framed her face. Every few seconds she would turn her head and flash a radiant smile at the camera.

Noticing the particular picture that Harry was examining, Lucy let out a soft chuckle.

"Oh I remember our Christmases together," she said with a look of reminiscence in her eyes. "Our dads were always secretly in competition with each other to get us the best presents. If my dad got me a toy broomstick, Mr. Malfoy would go out and get a better broomstick for Draco –"

Harry snorted and rolled his eyes at this. Of course that was just the type of pretentious behaviour he expected from Lucius Malfoy. It strongly reminded him of how spoiled Dudley was at Christmas time. Ignoring Harry's reaction, Lucy continued,

"I wasn't ever one to want many toys anyway, that was always Draco's thing. So if Draco wanted something in particular, I would just tell my dad that I wanted it, even though I really didn't, and a better version of that toy would end up under the Malfoy Christmas tree. Draco always thought it was a brilliant system. Up until they found out what we were doing…"

"It does sound like a brilliant system, better than my system anyway," said Harry, "at Christmas, it was always a coat hanger, a pair of old socks or a tissue."

This actually made Lucy laugh, until she suddenly stopped at the realization that he was being serious. "Really? That's _horrible_," she said, her eyes wide in astonishment.

"Yeah but it's gotten a lot better now, Christmas has significantly improved since I've come to Hogwarts," said Harry, grinning at her while running a hand through his unruly hair. As he continued skimming through the photos, Harry was mildly surprised at how not one picture showed Draco's signature smirk or sneer. Rather, each and every photo illustrated a happy child and content friendship between the pair. "Well, I always knew Draco was one to use people," Harry finished as he handed the photos back.

"What? Because of our 'brilliant system?' No, he wasn't using me at all!" stated Lucy defensively.

"Sure he wasn't," came Harry's skeptical response.

"Draco always treated me differently to any of his other friends. He was always kind and gentle, and generous, and though sometimes stubborn he would always listen to me," she said. "We always knew each other's secrets, and he always took the time out to find out what I was up to – we wrote to each other constantly," and with that she turned around and scoured through the tin box, pulling out parchment and handing them to Harry.

They were letters.

Harry, truly amazed at the way Lucy was describing the boy he had always thought of as an obnoxious and insufferable brat, keenly began reading the large, cursive handwriting.

_Dearest Lucy,_

_It's been only three days since you moved to France, but I'm already bored and wished that you hadn't. Father says you'll be back within a month, but I'm hoping your mother's fashion show would finish sooner. Crabbe and Goyle and incredibly dull, they don't understand how to play Gobstones properly. They're even worse at Quidditch. _

_Can't you just say that you miss England and get your mum to use the Floo Network? I'll even set up a room for you here. Better yet, we can build a fortress in one of the downstairs living rooms! We can drink pumpkin juice and toast marshmallows by the fire. You can even use my broomstick while mum forces me to take private lessons with my tutor. He's new. Apparently he's Merlin's great great great grandson or something. She says I have to be the best when I got to Hogwarts, which means I have to be taught by the best, although I don't think he's as great as Merlin himself. _

_I secretly know what your answer is going to be though. I'll bet my entire wizard's chess set that your reply is going to tell me how wonderful France is, and that you've made all these new friends that are going to be attending Beauxbatons, and how they won't stop speculating at what the palace is going to look like. Pathetic. I bet it's nowhere as good as Hogwarts is. _

_Fine. Stay in France. As long as you bring back the best French pastries, you're forgiven. At least you'll be back in time for your tenth birthday. I'll force Dobby into throwing you a massive party, with three types of cakes, balloons and lots of presents. We can have it right in the backyard. What do you want for your birthday? I'll be making a trip to Diagon Alley soon, so just send me a list. _

_I miss you, write back soon._

_Draco _

_Ps. I've instructed Pythagoras, my new barn owl, to keep biting you if you don't reply! _

Dumbfounded by Draco's ability to actually share, and his desire to do something nice for someone else, Harry was suddenly consumed with interest at this side of Malfoy he had never seen. Accustomed to his constant insults, snide comments and disdainful demeanor, he felt sure that Malfoy would rather eat a bucket of flubberworms than openly admit he was capable of actually being pleasant. Harry shuffled through the pile, and started to read another letter.

_Dear Lucy, _

_It's almost the Christmas Holidays and I can't wait to see you again. Hogwarts is amazing this time of year. The whole castle is decorated with Christmas trees, mistletoe, tinsel and snow falling from the enchanted ceiling in the Great Hall. _

_Although it'll only be about a week before a see you, its times like these that I truly wish you were at Hogwarts with me. We need to hatch a plan to get Harry Potter out of Hogwarts. Crabbe and Goyle are too stupid to scheme. Every time I see him I want to wipe that stupid grin off his face and hex him into the next century. _

_Remember in my last letter how annoyed I was that we weren't allowed to bring our own broomsticks because we're first years? Well, Potter's somehow managed to get onto the house Quidditch team __and__ get a Nimbus 2000. So now not only does everyone revere him because of that ugly scar on his forehead, he's getting worshipped for being seeker. He's the most pompous, annoying prat that I've ever laid eyes on, and he struts around the place expecting praise and __favouritism__ everywhere he goes. He doesn't even do anything special besides being a fair flyer. That's still no excuse for his 'exception to the rule' attitude. Worse yet, he hangs out with poor people and Mudbloods. _

_Father wrote last week and said you're now receiving professional dueling lessons in case you visit your dad at the hospital and some possessed weirdo tries to make a move, because they get all types of characters entering that place. You'll have to show me some maneuvers when I see you next, I just have to get through exams. Dear exam gods, please have mercy on me! _

_Reply ASAP because I have no one else to vent to_

_DM_

Harry looked up and raised an unimpressed eyebrow after reading the old letter. He was not surprised that Draco thought all those things about him, but Harry certainly did not expect that Draco would be spreading his thoughts outside the walls of Hogwarts. All possible likeability of Draco vanished from his mind, as he looked over at Lucy and wondered why she would ever be friends with someone who openly called other people 'poor' and 'Mudbloods' and not have a problem with it.

"So… do you find me a – what words did he use? Oh, a 'pompous, annoying prat?'" asked Harry jokingly. "I would really love to know the plan you guys hatched over Christmas to kick me out."

Confused at what he was talking about, Lucy pulled her eyes away from the dying embers of the fire and quickly scanned the letter, letting out a laugh. "Oh, don't mind Draco – he just likes to be dramatic. I remember writing back and telling him to focus on exams. Hmm… and I believe the scheme was to push you off a tower, or something stupid like that"

"And did you end up teaching him hexes he could use on me?"

"Actually I did! But that's top secret," she said, winking at him playfully, "Just in case he does end up in a duel with you."

Amused at her banter and the things that eleven year olds come up with, Harry noticed a half crumpled piece of parchment clutched in her hand as she tucked a lock of hair behind her ear.

"What's that?" asked Harry.

"Oh, just another stupid letter from Draco," she muttered, handing it to him. With great care, Harry unraveled the fragile letter, which had been subjected to a few tear drops and many creases.

_Dear Lucy,_

_I know you hate me right now. You have every reason to. I don't know what to say that will make it better, except that I am begging for you to understand. _

_Maybe we can meet in private during the next Hogsmeade weekend. I'll bring treacle fudge, I know it's your favourite. Await my next owl._

_Draco _

"Oh…" said Harry, finally understanding why she was so upset. "Listen, don't worry, you don't need someone like Malfoy in your life. People grow and well… they sometimes grow apart," he said placing a comforting hand on her shoulder. A pang of guilt protruded from within his conscience at the thought of his current situation with Ron and how they were not presently on speaking terms.

"But I don't want to grow apart. You still don't believe me when I say that Malfoy really isn't who you think he is, do you?"

"No, no I can't say I do. Not when he flaunts his elitist attitude around and plans my death or expulsion half the time," said Harry grimly, "and I still don't understand why you want to be friends with him."

Yes. She could see why an outsider would think Malfoy was one not to be associated with. She knew him better than anyone else, knew that his scorn and contempt was to hide his insecurities. But part of her just could not seem to sever the friendship that had shaped the person she was today. Her insides felt weak every time she thought about how he was only across the room, determinedly avoiding eye contact with her, knowing that conversations could be held with a single gaze. She thought about him at night, and wondered if he ever thought of her too, whether he missed her as much as she did. She felt that no one understood the predicament that she was in, no one could grasp how badly she wanted to hold on to this bond she had spent her whole life building.

"Well, let me show you what he's really like. Why I need to salvage this friendship," said Lucy, her eyes hardening with determination at convincing someone that she had every reason to be distressed. She felt that she was about to strangle something if she did not soon force someone to understand her problem soon.

"How?" asked Harry.

It was then Lucy pointed at the stone basin sitting next to her.

(_A/N: Sorry I haven't been updating after I initially started this story – I got caught up with school. But now I'm on holidays here for a whole month so if you review I promise to update! Please review, it really does give me motivation to keep going with the story knowing that people enjoy my writing, or are at least reading it! Also, the second part of this is coming soon, I just need to polish the end of it up and edit. I split it into two because I thought it was too long for a chapter). _


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